On February 16, 1848, Chopin gave his first concert in Paris since 1842, at the Salle Pleyel, nº 22 rue Rochechouart. The cost of tickets was unprecedented: 20 francs for each of the 300 seats available (the best seat at the Opera went for 12 francs). The program included Chopin’s first public performance of his new sonata for piano and cello, Op. 65, with its dedicatee, Auguste Franchomme. Little did anyone know that this would be Chopin’s final publication; nor that this concert would be Chopin’s last in Paris, ever. Less than a week later, the 1848 Revolution erupted, forcing King Louis-Philippe to flee and eventually to abdicate the throne. Chopin left Paris shortly afterwards, and when he returned he was too ill to perform.

Franchomme and Chopin played only the last three movements of the sonata in 1848 because, according to Frederick Niecks, a misguided listener at a house run-through had criticized the first movement as “too obscure, involved too many ideas.” After Chopin’s death, Franchomme returned to the Salle Pleyel to perform the complete Op. 65 on April 6, 1853, with Thomas Tellefsen, who’d studied with Chopin for a few years and become his friend. This time, nobody complained about the first movement.

“The main piece was a sonata by Chopin for cello and piano…the piece has something intimate and mysterious, everything in it is plaintive and melancholic… Franchomme, on his eloquent cello, found admirable expression, giving the beautiful melodies of Chopin a penetrating sweetness, full of religious poetry.”

I’m thrilled and honored to announce that the Dover edition of out-of-print works by Auguste Franchomme is now in the collection of the Music Department of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France in Paris, where I did much of the research for its Introduction. May it help others further the research! http://catalogue.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/cb45334257s

The influences upon Franchomme by Chopin are multifold, as I’ve written in my doctoral thesis, my album notes and most recently in Dover’s Franchommepublication. But what about the influences of the cellist upon Chopin? A few weeks ago, I wrote this post from my cellist’s perspective. I recently discussed the topic by email with the celebrated (and now cello-brated) pianist Sara Davis Buechner, whom I’m honored to call my friend. I invited her to write her own essay about this, and she replied:

Dear Louise:

I was tempted to politely dismiss your kind invitation yesterday to write a little something about Chopin and the cello, yet this morning recalled the many piano lessons that have turned into frustrating urgings to students, who seem to know nothing of string playing, chamber music in general, or the importance of phrasing, breathing, bowing, etc. So out of PURE SELFISHNESS, I looked up a few favorite “cello” passages in my Chopin scores, and cobbled together a little essay for you. I will be sharing it with my piano students, too! Thanks, Louise, and bravo again on the Franchomme project! Yay!

Her essay follows! As I told Sara, there’s clearly much more to be written about this fascinating topic – but if you’d like to use any of this material, please contact me for citation instructions.

The extraordinary piano music of Frédéric Chopin (1810 – 1849) –being enough discussed, over-played, and analyzed to death, by too many performers, teachers and musicologists — is not a subject much given to my own natural literary impulses, in terms of adding yet more commentary to that already immense (if valuable) pile. Nonetheless the Dover re-publication of cello music by Chopin’s devoted friend August Franchomme (1808 – 1884), in a new edition by my esteemed colleague Louise Dubin, elicits my observations here.

Responsible pianists everywhere place great attention on the dextrous innovations largely credited to Chopin at the outset of the Romantic Era — a style of writing for the instrument that is quintessentially pianistic in terms of exploiting the human hand’s natural ability to project the myriad colors and shadings of the piano. In the course of conquering the manifold technical difficulties inherent in any fine performance of Chopin’s works, the pianist must also unravel the many influences upon the Polish master that contributed to his bold, even revolutionary musical style — Bach’s counterpoint; Mozart’s formal purity; the pedagogic innovations of Muzio Clementi, Carl Czerny and Friedrich Kalkbrenner; the folk music of Poland; and most essentially, the lyrical sound, phrasing and breathing of great Italian opera.

Chopin’s intimate and singular melodic genius is buttressed by keen and exciting bass parts, which often exploit his knowledge of the cello. Besides the well known “Cello Étude” in C sharp minor op. 25 no. 7 — an extended melody for the left hand which could easily be performed as a duo with piano (playing the treble line), there are numerous piano pieces in Chopin’s canon whose interpretation can be improved by an awareness of the cellistic sound of certain passages.

There are possibly too many such left-hand passages to enumerate, but a short list could include:

Andante Spianato and Grand Polonaise op. 22

The left-hand part of the entire opening Andante could make for a most attractive cello solo Prelude.

Ballade no. 3 in A flat major op. 47

The transitional section in C sharp minor, measures 157 – 165.

Mazurka in C minor op. 56 no. 3

The four-voice contrapuntal nature of the opening measures should lead to a clear examination of the left hand itself, in the nature of a duo for two cellos.

Nocturne in F major op. 15 no. 1

Pianists who over-concentrate on the double-note challenges in the stormy minor passage, measures 37 – 48, often neglect the cellistic nature of the melody in the left hand.

Nocturne in E major op. 62 no. 2

Transitional section, measures 32 – 39.

Piano Sonata no. 2 in B flat minor op. 35

In the middle of the Scherzo movement (“Più lento”), there is a profoundly cello-inspired passage for left hand, measures 144 – 161.

Polonaise-Fantaisie op. 61

The beatific passage beginning at measure 148 (“Poco più lento”) is suffused throughout with lovely ostinato undulations in the left hand, ideal for the sound of the cello.

Prélude in C sharp minor op. 45

This lesser-known Prélude demonstrates one of the most remarkable qualities in Chopin’s style — his ability to transform techniques with larger perspective. Here again one may see cellistic writing in the left hand. But it does not limit itself solely to that interpretation, as the arpeggios that unfold from the bass of the keyboard upward actually reach high, well beyond cello range. As if the cello itself turns into a harp about midway on its journey.

Prélude in B minor op. 28 no. 6

Essentially a melodic study for the left hand.

Waltz in A minor op. 34 no. 2

The opening and closing of this well-known Waltz is essentially a melody for cello, accompanied by the right hand part of the piano.

Lastly, I’ll mention that one of the most-failed question on Piano Literature examinations is: “How many Sonatas did Frédéric write? The answer, of course, being four — the three solo Piano Sonatas and the Sonata for Cello and Piano op. 65, written for Franchomme. It may be fairly argued that of these four works, the Cello Sonata is the most successful, in terms of formal perfection and melodic directness.

We must always recall that, after his output for solo piano (and piano concertos), the next most-explored genres of Chopin’s repertoire consist of chamber music for cello, and vocal music. Clearly in his mind, the sound of these two instruments was similar, alluring, and reflective of what he wished to achieve sonically on the piano. To play Chopin on the piano is always (as my teacher Byron Janis would exhort) to sing. With the right hand Soprano or the left hand Cello.

This month, hear my performance with Julia Bruskin of Franchomme’s Nocturne Op. 14, No. 1 on Fred Child’s Performance Today! We were on air on MPR and its many affiliated stations on August 15, 2017, and for the next 30 days, you can listen to the broadcast here, and see the full playlist.

Performance Today is the fabulous MPR/APR nationally syndicated radio show hosted by Fred Child. This performance was from our album release celebration concert at John Street Church in lower Manhattan, picture above. Find our world premiere recording of this same nocturne (and many other pieces) on our album The Franchomme Project.

Thanks for the recording, Robert Olmsted, and thank you Julia Bruskin Wunsch, Katherine Cherbas, Saeunn Thorsteinsdottir, and Helene Jeanney for making this concert great!

These works have been out of print for over a century, and are reprinted here from their first editions, which include Franchomme’s original fingerings and bowings. The Introduction includes a good representation of my research, as well as some unpublished photos from Franchomme’s descendants. It should be interesting reading for any historian of early Romantic music (he was best friends with Chopin after all), and provide repertoire for cellists looking for unknown pearls. Please read below for more details, in English and French!

Selected Works for Cello and Piano by Auguste Franchomme, with Introduction by Louise Dubin. Dover Publications: Mineola, New York, 17 mai 2017.

The French cellist-composer Auguste Franchomme (1808-1884) is often remembered as Chopin’s friend and collaborator, but in his day he was renowned as one of the best cellists in Europe. In addition to performing chamber music with Chopin, Alard, and many others, he also served as the solo cellist of Louis-Philippe’s Musique du Roi, the Théâtre Italien and several other orchestras, taught for 38 years at the Paris Conservatoire, and published over 50 original works for his instrument. Franchomme’s cello compositions are superb examples of the genres popularized by violinists and pianists in early 19th century Paris, especially airs variés, fantaisies, caprices, and nocturnes (Franchomme composed the first ever Chopin-style nocturnes for the cello). They often feature tunes and opera themes that were familiar to his audiences.

Many of Franchomme’s compositions showcased his virtuosic left hand technique and elegant bowing patterns, expanded from the practices of his predecessors Bernhard Romberg, Charles-Nicolas Baudiot, Jean-Louis Duport, and others. While his cello-writing reaches new heights of virtuosity, it comes from a refined temperament and is often sweet, melancholy or humorous, but never bombastic or angst-ridden. I discuss Franchomme’s innovations both in his cello technique and his compositions, including possible influences on and from Chopin, in the Introduction.

Franchomme’s Caprices, Op. 7 and Etudes, Op. 25 are in print and owned by many cellists. But many of his other works, included the compositions I selected for this volume, have been out of print since Franchomme’s death in 1884, if not longer.

This volume offers cellists charming, challenging new pieces to add to their concert repertoire. Several have great stories attached to them, as I explain in the Introduction. I included some of the works that are already becoming known through recordings released by Anner Bylsma, Roel Dieltiens, and myself. Also featured are some of Franchomme’s arrangements of Chopin’s piano works, as well as his collaboration with George Osborne. Due to the original research included, this volume should be of interest not only to cellists, but also to any scholar of string instrument technique, Chopin, and 19th century music in general.